


Melodia Perduta

by Marijke_Rose



Series: Whumptober 2020 [20]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Day 20, Dirty Secret, Lost - Freeform, M/M, Whumptober 2020, no.20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27120943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marijke_Rose/pseuds/Marijke_Rose
Summary: What does Tallest Red do when he disappears at night? The answer will surprise you.
Relationships: Almighty Tallest Purple/Almighty Tallest Red
Series: Whumptober 2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948705
Kudos: 12
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Melodia Perduta

**Author's Note:**

> Day 20: Lost

Red sat up awake with his thoughts. Purple was fast asleep. The mighty flagship was still. Only the night crew was on duty. No one would come looking for him. No duties to fulfil or orders to issue. The night was peaceful and calm. The complete opposite of how Red felt.

He made up his mind and, dressed in comfortable robes, he snuck off. He laid his hand against a secret panel that responded only to him, then slipped inside. Away. 

A lift took him to his destination: a secret room, sound proof and reserved just for him alone. No one would find him there. Its existence was top secret. Only himself, the Control Brains, and the Vortian who designed the ship knew of it. Even the blueprints didn't have it listed and the computer was absolutely forbidden from revealing it. 

Here he would have true peace. To be himself. Not Red the Tallest, or Red the elite soldier, or Red a member of the mightiest Empire in the universe. Just Red.

The Red that could feel softer emotions. That could sometimes wonder if he was cut out for the responsibility of being Tallest. The one who wasn't always sure he made the right decisions. The one that didn't have to be perfect.

And the one with a dirty secret to go with his secret room.

He went up to a panel and waved his hand in front of it. A shelf came out bearing his most precious possession. He took the small cube very gently in his hands. Then he brought it over to a table with a comfortable bench - which had been triggered to come out when the shelf did. He placed his odd little treasure down near the edge closest to the bench, then sat down. He bent forward until his lips were just a couple centimetres away from it.

“The real Red is lost again,” he whispered so that his breath flowed over it.

It lit up with a red glow, and opened. Then it spread out along the table before him, a metre and a half wide. It flattened out only leaving two rows of slightly raised diamond-shaped buttons called ‘keys’.

He laid his fingers on them and pressed one down, playing a single note. Dissatisfied, he reached up with the other hand and slid his finger along a control. He tapped the key again. Another adjustment, then another tap. Yes, that was right.

Then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A moment later, he tapped out a scale with one hand. With his other hand, he played a chord.

Then he began to play a melody. At first it was the same as one he’d heard before, but then he deviated and began to improvise the notes, playing freely. His fingers flew deftly over the keys just as they would a computer and music filled the small room.

A lonesome and melancholic melody that lamented the imposed boundaries of order and control, and echoed throughout the room, brought about by soft scales. Softer and softer, like the patter of tears with the occasional sob of a crescendo and held formata. Then all at once broke out with a staccato in forte. Then with a decrescendo into a lagato and into a melody that led into a deceptive cadence. Finally, the whole thing accelerated into a full-bodied melody that would not be chained down.

Each touch wrought another sound, another statement. Some harmonious, some conflicting. (And maybe a few sour notes, here and there, since he was making it up as he went).

Eyes mostly lidded to slivers of red, he leaned into each bar as he brought the  _ cubo musicale _ to sing, to let his emotions and thoughts take wing and soar.

Even if it was contained only in this small room. Only for him. 

He closed his eyes and brought the song to an end with a slow but optimistic decrescendo. Then he opened them and looked at his fingers, still holding the last notes, which he slowly released as a drop splashed onto the back of his palm. He blinked, then reached up and wiped his cheeks as more tears fell from his eyes.

_ ‘Lost, but we will be found,’ _ he concluded to himself.

He sniffled and wiped his hands on his robes, then placed his long fingers on the keys again, he still had time before he would have to be back, and played another song.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea just popped into my head and wouldn’t let me alone, so this happened. Purple’s good with words, he could be a poet. Red’s got this one.


End file.
